Writing Challenge- The winning entries.

Yes, I've been meaning to. May/June and everything from September onwards is missing. I'll add the entries shortly.

 

We skipped the entry for May/June 2023. The theme was: "Your challenge for the next two months is to think of a story where a character(s) rebel against authority in some way, whatever their reasons (be they honourable or otherwise)."

Rebels, Rebels Everywhere (And Not A Lot to Think)
by @ColdFusion180​

“Man, this is great,” Rutherford smiled as he scanned a series of relays. “Nothing like checking over some slightly used equipment on an exotic planet to make one feel alive.”

“Stop sugar coating things, Ruthy. Just say it like it is,” Mariner scolded while idlily spinning a tricorder on her finger. “We’re setting up a combined science station slash embassy to monitor a recently contacted civilization. In other words, we’re decorating an overhyped Federation culture booth. Big deal.”

“Well, establishing a good foundation for future working relations and diplomatic channels is what second contact is all about,” Boimler reminded unloading more equipment and supplies from a cargo container. “Along with making sure we’re pronouncing all the local names correctly so we don’t end up accidentally offending anyone.”

“And conducting complimentary medical checkups too,” Tendi chirped while working next to Rutherford. “Expanding the frontiers of knowledge while helping out the locals at the same time. How could things be better than this?”

“I can think of one or two dozen ways,” Mariner quipped. “For starters, we could do something actually constructive and build this new science station a bar. That would really help promote future multicultural interactions…”

“Oh no,” Boimler groaned. “Don’t even think about it!”

“Sorry. Already did,” Mariner smirked. “And it’s one of my better ideas too.”

“Will you just quit slacking off and please get back to work?” Boimler pleaded. “Before we end up getting demerits or worse, falling behind schedule.”

“No problem-o, Boims,” Mariner smiled quickly moving into action. “Let’s kick things up a notch and get this decorating duty done!”

“Wow. You actually listened to me for once,” Boimler blinked watching Mariner work at rapid speed. “I have to admit, I was not expecting that.”

“Well, you know me, Boims. Always doing the unexpected,” Mariner said. “Now get your weaselly little butt in gear and work on setting a new science station construction record.”

“So we can set new working standards for ourselves, take pride in our accomplishments and request more work assignments from our superiors?” Tendi asked.

“No, so we can knock off work early and check out the local bars,” Mariner smirked. “That’s a much better idea than building a new bar of our own. I already know what Federation alcoholic beverages taste like. Along with a few dozen non-Federation ones…”

“I should have known,” Boimler sighed.

“Hey, maybe we can find a local equipment surplus venue too,” Rutherford suggested. “I’d love to learn more about the locals’ technological development level.”

“The Donapri have a typical post-industrial, early spacefaring technological rating,” Boimler reminded referring to the planet’s dominant native sentient species. “Nothing particularly special about it.”

“Though you have to admit, they do make for some great eye candy,” Mariner smirked.

“Thank you once again for granting us an exclusive tour of your new science facility,” A young female Donapri official smiled as Commander Ransom lead her and her retinue around the partially built station. All the Donapri had glistening silver skin, sported a multitude of colored, stylized hair and were stunningly attractive. “News of such a personal visitation is sure to be a social and media hit.”

“No problem, Minster Davi,” Ransom grinned walking next to her. “And this isn’t the only personal thing I can show you.”

“Really? How thrilling,” The Donapri Minster Davi twittered. “Do you mind if we record and take more pictures of our visit?”

“Of course not,” Ransom smiled leaning towards her and striking a pose. “Feel free to take all the pictures you want.”

“Thank you,” Minister Davi beamed posing with him as two members of her retinue proceeded to photograph them. “I can’t wait to display myself standing with a real alien visitor from another planet! I wasn’t able to take any with the first group of Federation visitors due to my partaking in a rare and extensive skin care regimen at the time. These new pictures will be sure to keep me on our world’s top recognition and exaltation index for at least the next week.”

“Is it just me, or do the Donapri seem kind of obsessed about appearances and popularity?” Boimler asked as Ransom, Minister Davi and their party passed by.

“Eh, must be a social thing,” Mariner shrugged. “Though I have to say, there’s something about these political muckety-mucks that seems a little off. We can find out more about it later during our bar hopping expedition.”

“Yeah, it will be a complete cultural immersion experience!” Tendi chirped excitedly. “Just the sort of wonderous opportunity I’d hoped to seize while happily serving in Starfleet.”

“Yeah, it should be great,” Rutherford agreed. “And we can even write up a report about all our new cultural findings too!”

“Well, whaddya say, Boims?” Mariner smirked knowingly. “You gonna deny your best friends the chance to achieve personal and professional enlightenment?”

“Fine, we’ll go,” Boimler sighed giving in. “But only after we finish all our assigned work. And only after getting Commander Ransom’s permission! And only if you promise not to involve us in any kind of senseless altercation or bar fight…”

KA-BOOOM!

“Too late,” Boimler groaned as a massive explosion suddenly rocked the building. “And we haven’t even found a bar yet. That’s got to be some kind of record!”

“Ahhh, what was that?” Tendi yelped.

“It wasn’t me!” Rutherford protested holding up his hands.

“Me neither,” Mariner defended. “For once…”

“Minister Davi!” A Donapri security guard rushed up to her. “The Federation science station is under attack! UCF forces have launched a surprise assault!”

“The who?” Ransom blinked, confused.

“The United Centralist Front,” Davi explained quickly. “A group of self-proclaimed revolutionaries opposed to the very principles of our government. Ugh, this is so embarrassing. Those infuriating rebels grow more and more brazen every day.”

“Rebels?” Rutherford blinked, surprised.

“Wait, does that mean there’s a planetary rebellion going on right now?” Tendi gasped in shock. “That wasn’t in the mission briefing.”

“Gee, looks like Starfleet’s first contact team somehow managed to neglect noticing that little detail,” Mariner drawled. “Bunch of slackers.”

“Look who’s talking,” Boimler gave her a look.

“The perimeter’s been breached! Rebels are pouring into the station!” The security guard continued. “We have to get everyone to safety now!”

“Equality and Justice forever!” A trio of armed, masked figures suddenly burst into view. “Down with the establishment! Freedom and liberty now!”

“Look out!” Davi yelled as the masked figures opened fire. The group of security guards accompanying Davi and her retinue quickly shot back.

“Aha! I knew there was something fishy about these preening government types,” Mariner noted as she and her friends took cover behind various consoles and cargo containers. “Guess this away mission isn’t so bad after all!”

“Are you crazy?!” Boimler yelped as weapons fire filled the air. “What am I saying?”

“What do we do, Commander?” Rutherford asked while worriedly clutching his tool kit.

“The only thing we can do,” Ransom declared huddling next to him. He tapped his combadge in determination. “Ransom to Cerritos. We seem to be caught in the middle of some kind of Donapri civil war.”

“Understood,” Captain Freeman replied. “Prepare for emergency beam out.”

“WHAT?!” Mariner yelled in disbelief. “Are you nuts? We can’t just leave like this!”

“That’s exactly what you’re going to do, Ensign!” Freeman ordered having overheard Mariner’s shouts. “The fight down there is an internal Donapri affair. It doesn’t involve us.”

“The heck it doesn’t!” Mariner snapped into Ransom’s combadge. “We’re literally being shot at by Donapri forces right now!”

“Not intentionally,” Tendi pointed out. “We just happen to be caught in the crossfire.”

“All the more reason to evacuate and return to the Cerritos,” Ransom said. “Before somebody gets hurt.”

“People are already getting hurt,” Mariner shouted over the din. “You heard those rebel guys. They’re fighting for freedom against a cruel, oppressive government. We have to help!”

“No, we don’t!” Ransom glared. “We are Starfleet. We don’t interfere in the course of a society’s natural development. The Prime Directive applies.”

“Well said, sir,” Boimler agreed.

“Shut it, Boims! Adults are talking now!” Mariner snapped. “Now look here, Jack…”

“That’s enough, Beckett!” Freeman roared over the channel. “We can discuss your own borderline rebellious behavior in private once you all return to the ship.” The sound of Freeman tapping her combadge was heard. “Freeman to Transporter Room One. Prepare to…”

“Forget that!” Mariner snapped tossing her tricorder at Boimler.

“What the?” A surprised Boimler yelped. He quickly ducked causing the tricorder to miss him and hit a nearby control panel instead.

“Commander, what is going on down there?” Freeman’s voice was heard. “Sensors show the science station’s shields just went up. We can’t beam you out.”

“Wow. That’s the one of the few systems we finished bringing online,” Rutherford commented. “What a coincidence.”

“Huh?” Ransom blinked in surprise. “How did the shields suddenly…Mariner!”

“Oops. Sorry, sir,” Mariner innocently held up her hands. “My tricorder simply slipped out of my hands and raised the station’s shields. It was an accident. Honest.”

“Honest, my well-toned gluteus maximus!” Ransom snapped. “Lower the station’s shields right now or…!”

“Freeze! Nobody move!” A pair of armed, masked Donapri barked leveling their weapons at them. Other masked Donapri watched over a sitting Minister Davi, her retinue and the group of stunned, fallen security guards. “You are now prisoners of the United Centralist Front!”

“Oh great. Not again,” Boimler groaned as the masked Donapri quickly seized the Starfleet officers’ weapons, tools and combadges. “I hate being taken prisoner.”

“Wait a minute,” Ransom said getting to his feet. “I’m Commander Jack Ransom of the Federation starship Cerritos. I formally request that…”

“Quiet, alien,” One of the masked Donapri cut him off. “You’ll have a chance to speak later.”

“This is outrageous!” Davi fumed glaring at her captors. “You rebels will never get away with this!”

“Oh, I think we will,” The leader of the Donapri rebels said looming over her. “Now that we have captured you, the government will be forced to listen to our demands.”

“Oh, dream on,” Davi sneered. “And I thought you rebels were delusional before.”

“Quiet, Minister!” The rebel leader warned. “That’s no way to talk to you mother.”

“Mother?!” All the Starfleet personnel blinked.

“Yes, Mother,” The rebel leader removed her mask revealing the face of a stern, hard-nosed woman of late middle age. “Kids these days. They have no respect for their elders.”

“Huh?” Mariner gawked as the other Donapri rebels unmasked, each of them clearly middle-aged with a noticeable tenacity of being slightly overweight. “Are you kidding me?”

“Wow,” Tendi stared. “I have to admit, this is unexpected.”

“I’ll say,” Rutherford blinked.

“Visitors from the Federation,” The unmasked rebel leader addressed them. “I am Citizen Pora, leader of the United Centralist Front. I’m here to expose the cruel and corrupt system of government that keeps unfit personages like Minister Davi here in power.”

“Oh, quit it with the dramatic bombast,” Pavi snapped. “You’re just jealous that you finally grew old, lost your looks and were voted out of office. Just like every other aged, delusional leader Donprai has ever had.”

“That’s exactly the kind of biased, discriminatory attitude that has infected all of Donapri society for thousands of years,” Pora glared. “Everyone is judged solely on their personal attractiveness, lifestyle and perceived level of popularity.”

“Because that’s what the public likes,” Davi defended. “People want their leaders to be young, beautiful and entertaining. Not washed-up old has-beens like you. It’s a fundamental fact of life.”

“Gotta admit she has a point,” Mariner commented. “Not that I agree with it…”

“It’s irresponsible, that’s what it is!” Pora snapped. “People should be judged on their personal abilities and capabilities, not their looks or what attracts the most societal admiration.”

“You’re only saying that because your looks waved bye-bye to your face and figure long ago,” Davi sneered. “You only became a rebel once your waistline grew out and developed along with your hips and wrinkles. Again, just like all our other previous leaders.”

“Huh?” Boimler frowned at the new information. “Wait, if you’ve had an appearance-based society for thousands of years…just how long has this rebellion been going on?”

“Oh, only a few centuries,” Pora waved.

“WHAT?!” All the Starfleet personnel yelped.

“I know, right?” Davi said misreading their reactions. “These darn adults are so insufferably annoying. Things are all fine and dandy when they’re young and their popularity numbers are high, but the minute they lose their looks, boom! They go and rebel against every known form of authority!”

“Because we finally grew up and realized just how stupid the basis for that form of authority is,” Pora glared at her. “The same thing will happen to the rest of you naïve kids someday.”

“Ha, that’ll never happen,” Davi declared preening. “I’m going to stay young and popular and beautiful for the rest of my life!”

“Good luck with that,” Mariner quipped.

“Now who’s delusional?” Pora sneered at Davi in contempt. “You kids still act like you’re a bunch of whiny, spoiled teenagers who ignore your elders and think all our opinions are useless!”

“We’re the ones who continue to grant you endless parental fidelity and generous social welfare assistance,” Davi shot back. “Along with taking care of all the hard work you’re no longer capable of doing. You should be grateful!”

“Just like you should be grateful for the powder room full of makeup you slather onto your face every day,” Pora taunted. “If people every saw your real pimple-covered hide, they’d vote you out of office in a heartbeat.”

“WHAT?!” Davi shrieked. “TAKE THAT BACK!”

“MAKE ME!” Pora yelled.

“Wow, this certainly is a strange not-quite-as-new world,” Tendi blinked as Minster Davi and Citizen Pora continued to scream at each other. “I’ve never seen such an unusual occurrence of parents rebelling against their kids. Or even read about it.”

“Okay, maybe making presumptions about the Donapri rebels wasn’t such a good idea after all,” Mariner grumbled.

“No, you think?” Boimler gave her a look.

“Though I can definitely see why Minister Davi wants to stamp out the rebellion,” Mariner commented watching Davi and Pora fight. “That old lady of hers sure is an annoying, overbearing control freak. She reminds me of my mom.”

“Really?” Rutherford glanced at her. “What’s your mom like?”

“Can we meet her?” Boimler asked hopefully. “I have a few questions I’d love to know the answers to…”

“No!” Mariner shouted quickly. “I mean, you don’t know my mom. None of you do. She travels a lot. Odds are you won’t be able to meet her in any way. Ever!”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Tendi commented. “Your mom sounds kind of interesting. You must be really close to her.”

“Not really,” Mariner snorted. “We haven’t seen eye-to-eye on things for so long I doubt we ever will.”

“Well, you did initially side with the Donapri rebels,” Rutherford pointed out. “So in a weird way, you did manage to side with your mom.”

“What?!” Mariner yelped in shock. “Oh man, you’re right! What have I done? Bad Mariner! Bad Mariner!”

“Well, those are two words I certainly don’t hear you mutter every day,” Boimler noted at Mariner’s behavior. “Though Q knows I’ve repeated them a few hundred times too many…”

BOOM!

“Oh great,” Boimler groaned as another explosion was heard in the background. “Now what?”

“Surrender!” Another group of masked Donapri stormed into the area riding a collection anti-grav chairs, scooters and carts. “The liberators of oppressed Donapri everywhere are here!”

“Oh no,” Both Davi and Pora groaned at the sight. “Not these guys again!”

“That’s strange?” Rutherford frowned. “How did those guys manage to get into here in the first place? The station’s shields are still up.”

“They must’ve already been in a different area of the station,” Tendi reasoned.

“Ha! It’s over, Minster!” The leader of the masked newcomers cackled. “The days of your incompetent rule have finally come to an end!”

“Not to you they have,” Pora declared. “Unless you’ve finally chosen to cease your ridiculous behavior and return to operating under the authority of the United Centralized Front.”

“Ha! Not likely!” The masked newcomer sneered pointing at Davi. “You and your UCF lunatics are just as bad as her.”

“Huh?” Ransom blinked, confused. “Wait, aren’t you with the UCF?”

“Of course not!” The newcomer whipped off his mask to reveal a very elderly Donapri. “I, Commander Inze, may have fought as one of the UCF before, but will never do so again! We will no longer be subordinate to the UFC’s overbearing authority!”

“Huh?” Boimler stared, stunned. “You’re saying you are rebelling against the rebellion?”

“You bet your sweet bippy we are!” Commander Inze declared as the rest of the newcomers unmasked revealing a crowd of elderly Donapri faces. “It’s past time Donapri’s true leadership standards are set. Leadership based on one’s age, experience and the respect that rightfully comes with both!”

“Aw, shut up, you old fool!” Davi snapped. “There’s no way people will ever willingly choose to be led by a bunch of wrinkled old fogeys way past their physical, mental and intellectual prime.”

“Yeah!” Pora agreed. “The notion of having extremely elderly personages as leaders is even more outlandish than granting political and social authority to a bunch of clueless, pretty-faced kids. What kind of messed up, inefficient society would ever have a governmental system like that?”

“Boy, ladies,” Mariner whistled. “Are you ever in for a shock.”

“Be quiet, ya little whippersnapper!” Inze barked pounding the armrests of his anti-grav chair. “It was bad enough having to fight alongside an arrogant upstart like you, but having you replace me as leader of the glorious rebellion was the last straw!”

“It’s the fate of every parent to eventually be replaced by their kids,” Pora snapped. “Change is inevitable!”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying,” Davi pointed out. “So why don’t both of you old fogeys lay down your arms, get some serious makeovers and beg that the government shows you mercy.”

“WHAT?! NEVER!” Pora and Inze howled. “YOU CAN’T STOP THE REBELLION!”

“Wanna bet?” Davi shouted leaping up and ripping a weapon from a surprised UFC fighter’s hands. “GET THEM!”

“Yaaahhh!” The other members of Davi’s retinue cried and quickly seized more weapons before turning them on their former owners. “SURRENDER, YOU DARN DIRTY REBELS!”

“YOU’LL NEVER TAKE US ALIVE!” Every member of the two opposing groups roared and began firing at the newly armed government members while also shooting at each other. “LONG LIVE THE REBELLION! LOVE LIVE THE REVOLUTION!”

“Oh boy. Here we go again,” Boimler moaned as the three-way fight quickly turned into a free-for-all. “So much for experiencing a calm and peaceful second contact.”

“Though on the bright side, we’re able to confirm that rebellion among a society’s different generations is yet another example of parallel planetary development,” Tendi pointed out.

“Guess some things really are universal,” Rutherford noted.

“Yeah, like death, entropy and sentient beings’ capacity for stupidity,” Mariner quipped. “Or in this case, insanity.”

“Said the transporter to the holodeck,” Boimler muttered.

“Will everyone please just calm down?” Ransom shouted cautiously rising up from cover. “The Federation will not interfere in whatever internal conflict your society is currently experiencing, but we would be more than willing to act as mediators to help settle any dispute…”

“YOU STAY OUT OF THIS!” Davi, Pora and Inze yelled shooting at Ransom.

“Ahhh!” Ransom yelped ducking back down.

“Way to be diplomatic there, Jack,” Mariner drawled. “Maybe you oughta listen to the locals and don’t get involved in the current situation.”

“A situation we wouldn’t be in if you had listened to me and obeyed orders from the beginning,” Ransom glared at her. “Starfleet officers don’t involve themselves in other civilizations’ natural internal developments. Avoiding getting into situations like this is exactly why the Prime Directive exists.”

“This is why I should work alone the next time I support a rebellion to help root out injustice,” Mariner muttered under her breath. “And why I keep a healthy stock of alcoholic beverages back onboard the ship.”

“This is why I’m an engineer and not a diplomat,” Rutherford gulped as the firefight continued to rage around them.

“This kind of real-world encounter with murky ethical moral dilemmas is why I joined Starfleet in the first place,” Tendi added.

“And this is why I keep submitting promotion applications to other ships,” Boimler groaned.

 

We continue with the winning entry for September/October 2023. The theme was "Spooky Haunted Ghostship".

Don’t Feed the Clowns​

by @TheLoneRedshirt ​

“A clown is funny in the circus ring, but what would be the normal reaction to opening a door at midnight and finding the same clown standing there in the moonlight?”
— Lon Chaney, Sr.


Stardate 53826.6 (29 October 2376)
USS Bluefin
Routine Patrol, near the Molari Badlands

“A circus?” asked Commander Inga Strauss, incredulous, “We’re going to escort a circus to Klaamet IV?”

“That’s right,” replied Captain Joseph Akinola, grinning, “What’s the matter, Commander – didn’t you ever go to the circus when you were a kid?”

“Well . . . sure I did,” she replied, folding her arms defensively. “I just never cared for them much. And I don’t see why a circus troupe requires an escort!”

Akinola leaned back in his desk chair. “Apparently the ‘Celestial Circus’ has some friends among the Starfleet brass that pulled a few strings for them. This circus has performed on several starbases and a few of the larger ships of the line. In light of the recent events in our sector, I can understand the request, even if it seems like overkill.”

Strauss nodded, but she appeared distracted. Akinola noticed that her expression was more troubled than perturbed.

“XO, you okay?” he asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes sir, sorry, I was just figuring how we would have to adjust our patrol grid when we finish with escort duty.”

The Captain sensed that there was more to it than that, but he didn’t press the issue. “Very well, have Ensign Bralus bring us to 228 mark 9 and keep us at warp 6. That will give us about fourteen hours to intercept the Calliope. It’s only a day and a half to the Klaamet system, so this won’t throw us off schedule too badly.”

* * *

At the end of her shift, Strauss made her way to her quarters, and then sat on the edge of her bunk for several minutes staring blankly at the bulkhead. With a sigh, she rose and walked to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. She frowned as she noticed the slight tremor in her hands.

* * *

Stardate 31368.5 (15 May 2354)
Circus Krone
Munich, Germany – Earth

Eight year-old Inga Strauss watched the high-wire act with rapt attention as she sat by her father, Captain Dieter Strauss. Inga was excited to spend time with her Papa as he was home on leave, particularly since she had him all to herself this day. Her little brother was sick, so he and Mama stayed at home. She only felt slightly guilty about having Papa to herself.

Circus Krone was the largest in Europe, enjoying something of a revival after the decline of most circuses following the third world war. Though captive animals no longer provided entertainment, there were still stunning displays of acrobatics and, of course, the hilarious antics of the clowns.

Inga giggled as several clowns raced around one of the rings, tripping over one another to gain entry into an impossibly tiny car. Somehow, they all managed to squeeze in. Her smile faded, however, as one clown stood apart and looked into the crowd.

The clown was staring directly at Inga.

She tried not to look back, but he continued to gaze at her. Certainly, it looked friendly enough with its blazing orange hair, white face and brightly painted smile, but something about its eyes made her shiver slightly.

“Papa, I need to use the restroom,” she whispered to her Father.

Captain Strauss cocked an eyebrow at her, then smiled. “Alright, Ladybug. Do you want me to go with you?”

Inga rolled her eyes and sighed. “Papa! I’m almost nine years old. I can go to the restroom by myself!”

Dieter Strauss chuckled, “I’m sure you can. Just hurry back – the trapeze act is beginning shortly.”

Inga moved quickly down the aisle, stepping past other on-lookers and quickly made her way down the ramp, past the concession stands of popcorn, peanuts and other tantalizing treats (Maybe Papa would buy her some cotton candy!), until she came to the corridor that led to the restrooms.

The lighting was somewhat dim, but not enough to cause Inga to hesitate. She made her way down the hall, turning left toward the ladies’ facilities . . .

. . . and was very surprised to see the same clown that had stared at her from the floor of the circus. She was certain the corridor had been empty when she started this direction.

“Oh, hello,” said Inga, startled but not really afraid.

The clown smiled down at the young girl. “Well, hello young miss! Are you enjoying the show today?”

“Yes sir,” she replied, dutifully, though she really needed to use the restroom. “It’s been a lot of fun!”

“Oh indeed, indeed!” said the clown, “Fun, fun, dum-dee-dum! A clown’s work is never done!” His grin broadened, revealing an exceptional number of bright, white teeth.

Inga giggled in spite of herself. “You’re funny!” she exclaimed, forgetting the pressure in her bladder. Why had she been nervous about this clown before? He seemed very nice! His voice had a very reassuring quality, as did his broad smile, and his eyes . . .

. . . his eyes . . .

The clown’s eyes began to glow – a soft, silver-white light that began to pulsate and brighten. He produced a red balloon, as if by magic.

“And here’s a pretty, red balloon for lovely little Inga – do you like balloons, little Ladybug? See how it floats . . .”

Inga frowned inwardly at the use of the pet name only her father used, but the frown did not extend to her mouth, which continued to stretch out in a broad grin.

“How did you know my name?” she asked in a far-away voice. The sounds of the crowd and the circus seemed miles distant. The scant light in the corridor began to dim - seemingly absorbed by the clown looming over her.

The clown chuckled, a laugh which sounded of broken glass sraping over gravel. The glow in his eyes intensified and his grin, already impossibly huge, grew even wider, revealing rows of long, sharp, serrated teeth.

“WE KNOW MANY THINGS, INGA, ESPECIALLY WHEN WE ARE HUNGRY, OUR KNOWLEDGE EXPANDS AND WE EXPAND AND, YES, WE ARE HUNGRY, INDEED, LITTLE LADYBUG, VERY . . . VERY . . . HUNGRY . . . ”

Inga’s eyes followed the rising balloon as it bumped against the curved ceiling of the corridor. The balloon burst, drenching her with a sudden deluge of warm red blood.

“NOW, LITTLE INGA, WE MUST SATISFY OUR HUNGER AND ADD YOUR BLOOD TO OUR ESSENCE . . . WE MUST FEED, YOU SEE, FOR WE ARE HUNGRY . . . CLOWNS . . . ARE . . . ALWAYS . . . HUNGRY!”

This last came in a chorus of voices . . . some deep and snarling, some high-pitched as from tortured souls. In the backgound, she heard a chorus of voices chanting, "We float . . . we always float . . . you will float with us . . . forever . . ."

Inga stood transfixed, wanting to run, to scream, to get away from the clown-thing, but she was frozen in place – covered in blood, a painful smile still affixed to her face. A tear streamed down one cheek, cutting a channel through the red gore.

The clown’s head began to grow larger and its jaws separated, revealing additional rows of inhuman jagged teeth. Something deep within the dark maw writhed and wriggled. The fly-blown smell of rotten meat and ancient corruption wafted over her. He-It began to move toward Inga . . .

“Inga? Inga, are you still in there?” The voice of Dieter Strauss suddenly caused Inga to break out of her trance. She stood, trembling and still for a moment, unable to speak or remember what she was doing in the corridor. She finally lost control of her bladder.

The clown-thing was gone, as was the blood and the awful smell. Captain Strauss rounded the corner and stopped abruptly when he saw his daughter.

“Inga, what took you so long? I was beginning to think you got lost!” The chiding note in the elder Strauss’ voice suddenly caught as he saw Inga’s face and the dark, spreading wetness at the front of her pants.

“Ladybug?” he asked, suddenly concerned for his little girl.

Inga’s lips trembled, though out of embarrassment and not fear, for she had no recollection of the clown.

“Papa – I’m sorry! . . . I didn’t make it to the restroom in time.” Tears spilled over her cheeks and she began to cry.

Dieter Strauss gently scooped up his daughter and moved out of the corridor, preparing to take Inga home. “Shhh, it’s alright, Ladybug. I think you’re just tired. We’ll go on home so you can get cleaned up and we can see about dinner.”

Inga clung tightly to her father, feeling an unexpected sense of relief and security. Already she felt better, despite her shame over her 'accident.' All that mattered to her now was that she felt safe and loved in her father's strong arms.

Neither noticed the red balloon that floated languidly in the dim hallway behind them.

* * *

Stardate 53828.9 (31 October 2376)
USS Bluefin
Standard Orbit – Klaamet IV

“You sure were quiet tonight,” observed Lt. Commander T’Ser as she accompanied Inga Strauss and Nigel Bane to the ward room from the transporter room. They had just returned from a performance by the Celestial Circus in the city of Montosa, the capitol of Klaamet IV. The director of the circus had invited the entire crew of the Bluefin as a gesture of appreciation. Of course, not all the crew could attend but better than half did, including a reluctant Inga Strauss.

“Hmmm? Oh, sorry, I’ve just never cared much for circuses,” replied Strauss, absently.

“Blimey! I never heard of anyone who didn’t like a circus!” exclaimed Nigel, grinning.

Inga frowned slightly, “I went when I was a child, I just . . . you know, don’t find them particularly entertaining.”

“While I prefer other forms of entertainment, I do find a certain charm in the circus,” said T’Ser.

The trio came to the wardroom. Inga stopped in the corridor and yawned.

“If it’s all the same to you guys, I’m going to turn in, I’m tired,” she said.

Nigel and T’Ser nodded their understanding and wished Inga goodnight. She moved toward the turbo-lift and entered the small compartment.

“Deck four,” she said, leaning against the cool wall of the lift car. She rubbed her neck, trying to alleviate the tension that had built up in her neck. She had been inexplicably on edge during the entire performance and, truth be known, she had been very close to a panic attack when the clowns came out.

Clowns, she thought with an involuntary shiver, why do they always give me the creeps?

She exited the turbo lift and rounded the corridor until she came to her quarters. As the door slid shut behind her, she said, “Lights.”

As the darkness in the room was pushed back by the lights, Inga froze in place, her breath caught in her throat. Eyes wide and mind numb, she stared at the object that had not been in her cabin when she left.

Tethered to a yellow string, a bright red balloon floated silently in the middle of the room.

* * *

END (with apologies to Stephen King)

 

The theme for November/December 2023 was "Reunion". Everybody won!

I'll do the lazy thing and link to the five stories:

Three Reunions by @Oddish
The Vulcan - Seeing is Believing, Part 1 by @Will The Serious
Quark's Quarters by @Robert Bruce Scott
So Comes a Fragile Dawn by @Cobalt Frost
Infinite Insanity in Infinite Discombobulations by @ColdFusion180

 

The January/February 2024 theme was "Stand-Off".

--- JELLICO'S WARSHIP ---​

by @Oddish ​

Julian Bashir stared out the viewport at the Starfleet vessel that had just docked at the station. It was an impressive sight, to be sure: nearly three-quarters of a kilometer in length, forty-two decks from bridge to keel, capable of sustaining Warp 9 for days on end, and heir to a name that had a history running all the way back to the days of wooden sailing ships. "So, chief," the young doctor said. "That's where you served before you came to Deep Space 9?"

Miles O'Brien was also staring at the ship, possibly with even more interest than Julian. To an untrained person, she would have looked like any other Galaxy Class, but Miles could see the subtle changes that indicated the vastly transformed nature of the USS Enterprise. "Yes," he said. "But she didn't look like that when I served aboard her."

"What happened?" Julian queried.

"The Cardassians happened," Miles replied grimly. "Followed by the Borg. You heard about Captain Picard, right?"

"Of course," Bashir said. And indeed he had: everyone knew the tragic story of the intrepid Starfleet captain who had been taken by the Cardassians shortly before the Minos Corvo incident. The Cardasian fleet had been chased from the disputed system with an invitation not to return, but not before Jean-Luc Picard had died at the hands of one of their torturers. Many people had refused to believe the Cardassian narrative that Picard had been engaging in terrorist operations, and had called for retaliatory action after the incident, but cooler heads had prevailed.

"From what I hear," Miles expalined, "after Picard was gone, a new guy took over the ship. His name was Edward Jellico. I only knew him by reputation, but unlike Picard, he was a soldier, not an explorer. And then, three months later, there was that mess with the Borg, led by Commander Data's brother."

"I heard about that," Bashir said. "How many ships were lost in the fighting?"

"Too many," Miles said grimly. "Thanks to Commander Data, the Enterprise survived, but it was blasted to hell. And when they got back to the shipyards, Captain Jellico convinced his superiors to let him rebuild the ship his way. 'The Federation flagship should be Starfleet's strong right arm, ready to project a show of strength' or some such thing. I'm sure Jellico was far more eloquent, when he worded his proposal."

"I guess I heard about that as well," Bashir mused. "After he and his people had saved the Federation from two separate existential threats, they bought into his theories."

"He wasn't completely wrong," Miles said. "The Federation's long had the strongest tech base in the quadrant, but we won't build warships, we won't develop our own cloaking tech, though we have the ability. It makes sense on paper, but..." he shook his head. "It's like we're trying to lose."

Julian Bashir was young and idealistic and had not seen combat, so he still believed in Federation doctrine. However, he was wise enough to choose to agree to disagree here. He indicated the Enterprise. "What about all the civilians onboard?"

"A lot of the civilian infrastructure was lost in the fight with the Borg," Miles explained. "Most of the schools, including the nursery where Molly went, half the science labs... all of it gone. Even Ten Forward was gutted."

"The children?"

"They were moved to emergency shelter areas, so most of them were fine. Of course, when one of the shelters took a direct hit..." Miles didn't continue. He didn't have to.

"But there aren't children on the Enterprise anymore."

"No, the civilian structures that weren't trashed were taken out during the refit. In their place... I don't know what-all, the changes were classified. But I know that the Enterprise is now the closest thing the Federation has to a proper warship. That's why they moved the Odyssey from the Cardassian border last month and had the Enterprise take her place."

"I thought the Federation didn't believe in rattling its saber that way."

Miles's face hardened. "Let me tell you something, Julian. When you're dealing with the Cardassians, a little saber-rattling..."

The voice of Major Kira on the comm interrupted his reply and ended the incipient disagreement. "All senior officers, report to ops," it instructed. With Sisko off the station and missing, she was the one calling the shots, and you did not want to ignore an order she gave you. Both men quickly headed for the turbolift.

When the two of them arrived in ops, Kira was speaking with a stern-faced captain with gray hair. Neither of them knew him by sight, but he was flanked by two men Miles knew well: one was Data, Starfleet's one Soong-class android member; he had been second officer of the Enterprise when Miles was onboard. The red uniform top and three pips on his collar suggested that he had gone from second to first. Worf, Starfleet's first (and currently only) Klingon member, still wore gold, but his collar had sprouted a pip as well.

Seeing them, Kira indicated them both to the man she had been talking to. "Oh good, you're here. This is Edward Jellico, the Enterprise's captain. Captain, Miles O'Brien and Julian Bashir."

"O'Brien, yes, the engineering crew were still talking about your work when I arrived," Jellico said. "I believe you know my first and second officers.

"Oh course," O'Brien said. "Commander Data and Lieute... excuse me, Lieutenant Commander Worf," he amended.

"And I've met Commander Data as well," Bashir volunteered.

"Indeed," Data said. "The doctor assisted me on a... very illuminating project about a year ago."

"We'll have time to catch up later," Captain Jellico cut in. "For now, Starfleet has ordered all traffic through the wormhole suspended until the Enterprise investigated the Jem'Hadar's threat."

"What about Benjamin and the others?" Dax queried.

"I have been instructed to make Commander Sisko's return a high priority," Jellico stated evenly.

"If you're going to try to rescue them, we're coming with you," Dax responded.

"I would advise against that," Jellico said. "Your two remaining runabouts are unlikely to tip the balance all that much."

"Even so, you could use all the help you can get," Kira stated.

Jellico scowled. "You're not under my command, major, so I won't stop you from coming along in your own ships. However, I advise that when the shooting starts, keep your distance."

"We'll keep that in mind."

"I've been outfitting the runabouts with extra banks of photon torpedoes," O'Brien said. "They should be ready within a few hours."

"It should take at least that long to offload all nonessential personnel from the Enterprise," Dax said. "You were planning on doing that, weren't you?"

"Lieutenant, this ship offloaded its nonessential personnel almost a year ago," Jellico said. "So if you're coming, you'll want to expedite your work."

Commander Data spoke up. "Perhaps Commander Worf and I could assist the chief with his modifications to the runabouts."

Jellico scowled again, but he was a warrior, and understood the desire of those like him to reconnect with former comrades, as well as aid them in time of need. And in any case, the Enterprise was as battle-ready as its crew could make it, and he would need neither officer. "Very well."

*~*~*

As they walked along toward the runabout pads, O'Brien spoke up. "So, Commander, how's the Enterprise crew been holding up? I mean, since Captain Picard..." he trailed off.

"In addition to the considerable grief that everyone felt, there was a period of readjustment for most of our personnel," Data said. "Captain Jellico's command style was very different from Captain Picard's. A number of crew requested reassignment."

O'Brien addressed the elephant in the turbolift, given Data's obvious advancement. "Commander Riker among them?"

"There was considerable friction between the two of them, due to their respective personalities," Data admitted. "It took time, but they ultimately grew to respect one another."

"However, when it was announced that the Cheyenne was in our sector and had urgent need of a captain, Commander Riker applied for the position," Worf put in, then added in a slightly aggrieved tone: "Counselor Troi chose to accompany him."

"Well, then I guess congratulations are due to all of you," the chief replied. "Especially you, Commander. The red uniform suits you."

"Thank you, Chief. It has been... very educational, adjusting to my new duties. Thankfully, Geordi has remained aboard, and has helped me a great deal."

O'Brien turned to Worf with a smile. "Do I even have to ask how you've been doing?"

"It has been a great honor, working with Captain Jellico and Commander Data to create such a... capable vessel," Worf said. Despite his trademark gruffness, he fooled exactly no one; even Data had known that the Klingon had enjoyed his work greatly.

"I'll bet," Miles said. "Well, I hope you won't have to test it against the Jem'Hadar, but I know that if you do, you'll do yourselves proud."

To be continued...

 

The modified Galaxy Class emerged into the Gamma Quadrant in a flash of light, with the two diminutive runabouts flying in its wake like two mice scurrying along after a lion. All three vessels frantically aimed their sensors in as many directions as possible, aware that with no way to scan before their emergence into the Gamma Quadrant, the mouth of the wormhole was a perfect spot for an ambush. However, they quickly realized that their caution had been unnecessary.

Captain Jellico hailed the runabouts. "Nothing detected on long range scanners. But that doesn't mean the Dominion doesn't have cloaking technology."

"We'll keep our eyes open," Dax assured him from the Mekong.

"Lieutenant, I've got something," O'Brien said. "Single ship, Starfleet, flying erratically." He typed some commands and checked the readout. "It's the Rio Grande."

"Captain, we've sighted the missing runabout," Dax reported.

"Understood, lieutenant," Jellico reported from the Enterprise bridge. "Go pick it up. We'll cover for you."

Data watched the sensors and calmly reported what was going on as it happened. The Rio Grande had been intercepted successfully, and come to a full stop while the chief beamed aboard. It then fell into formation with the Mekong and Orinoco, flying much more smoothly with an experienced pilot at the helm. "Jake Sisko and Nog have been secured, along with the ship," Data stated. "The station crew report that Commander Sisko and one other civilian are still missing."

"Do they know which planet they're on?" Jellico queried.

"Yes, sir."

"Tell them to proceed to that location and rescue him if they can, then get back to the wormhole," Jellico commanded. Hopefully, with the commander retrieved, the runabouts would return home. Jellico had read the specs on the vessels the Jem'Hadar reported having destroyed, and many of them were a lot more combat capable then the beefed-up shuttles the station crew were flying. He had known better than to try to order around people who weren't in his chain of command, but seeing them in harm's way made him nervous.

Dax's acknowledgement was cut off by a shrill proximity alarm, followed by Worf's deep baritone. "Captain, we're detecting three incoming ships in attack formation."

"Red alert. Activate shields and charge all weapons," Data calmly instructed, and the alarms sounded through the ship's forty-two decks as hundreds of personnel raced from quarters, mess hall, or yellow alert stations to initiate their various comabt duties.

"Mekong, Orinoco, stay with the damaged runabout," Jellico ordered. "We'll try to draw them away from you."

"We can help you, captain," Kira protested.

"The Rio Grande is damaged. If those ships go after it instead of us, it'll need your help more than we will," Jellico ordered tersely. "Mr. Worf, lock phasers on the lead ship. Stand by quantum torpedoes and photons as well."

"Weapons ready," Worf assured him, and Jellico could hear the eagerness in the Klingon's voice. Starfleet had never fielded a proper warship before, not in his lifetime anyway, and he was eager to break some new ground.

The lead Jem'Hadar ship did not disappoint the big Klingon by retreating or trying to negotiate. It activated a fierce polaron beam that sliced through the Enterprise's shields like they weren't there. However, the ship's refit had included a defenseive upgrade as well as an offensive one, and the devastaing stream of ionized polarons slammed solidly against a thick layer of duranium-based ceramic ablative armor. The Jem'Hadar weapons could pierce energy-based shields easily, but were not designed to phase through physical barriers. The sturdy armor tiles quivered and fractured and a few were blown off (the way ablative armor is supposed to), but the hull behind them remained unscratched.

"Full phasers!" the captain barked. "Fire at will." Instantly, Worf's finger jabbed the Fire button.

A year and a half before, Jellico had demanded that the Enterprise's phasers be powered by four other ship's systems instead of three, wanting to be, in his own terms, "loaded for bear". The ship's refit, however, had included two small but mighty auxiliary antimatter reactors, designed to do nothing except service the phaser array. The ship's phaser power was limited only by what the emitters could channel without overloading. If the Enterprise had been loaded for bear before, courtesy of allowing it to scavenge power from other systems, having its own dedicated weapon power source had left it loaded for elephant. Fierce orange beams sprang from the multiple emitters and drilled unerringly into the hulls of the three incoming ships. The lead ship shuddered as the central and most powerful beam drilled into its hull, and then there was an orange flash to its rear as the phaser penetrated its superstructure and punched out through the other side to waste its remaining energy on the vacuum behind. The mortally wounded vessel went tumbling off through space and exploded as the cascading plasma surges overwhelmed its damage control abilities.

With the fire at will command given, Worf needed no further commend to pound the enemy ships. Noting that the other two had lost their shields, he commanded a full barrage of torpedoes. The Enterprise's main torpedo launcher now dispensed the new quantum torpedoes, but that didn't mean she was done with the older weapons: she still had what was known as the photon array, which Worf had designed and the shipyard's crew of engineers had refined into a working reality. A long row of simple torpedo tubes had been inset along the ventral surface of the saucer section. There wasn't space for magazines or reloading mechanisms, so the tubes took the better part of an hour to reload. This vastly reduced both the space required and the structural weakness that torpedo tubes often came with. As a downside, it made them only good for a single shot in a battle... but it gave the Enterprise a devastating first strike capability. Properly deployed, it could end a battle before it began. And that was what happened here: four quantum torpedoes and sixteen photons went screaming into the two remaining ships. One or two missed, but it didn't matter. The Jem'Hadar ships were already weakened by withering phaser fire, and the remaining shots were more than enough to finish the job. Both crews were blasted directly into whatever afterlife awaited their kind as their vessels disintegrated one after the other.

From the protective position they had taken next to the Rio Grande, the station crew eyed the carnage in disbelief. Tactical analysis on the incoming ships had shown them to be large and powerful, but they hadn't had a chance.

"Runabouts, you're clear to get to the planet," Jellico's voice came through the comms. "When you have your commander back, return to the Alpha Quadrant as quickly as possible."

"What about you, sir?" O'Brien queried from the Rio Grande.

"Our orders were to investigate the threat," Jellico said. "We've won the first encounter, but it won't be the last."

"Sir, additional ships have been detected," Data said calmly. "Two squadrons of three, appraoching on opposite vectors."

"Reload quantum tubes, and charge all weapons," Jellico ordered. "Jellico to stingships, deploy now."

Silently, two hatches on the bottom of the ship slid open, and four small parasite ships emerged, then hung in space eagerly awaiting the command to engage. The new arrivals did not look like most Federation ships, because they neither had nor needed warp drives. Like planes on an aircraft carrier, their purpose was to travel within the Enterprise, and launch when needed. Lightning fast and incredibly maneuverable, the little ships were designed to be hard to hit and pack a considerable punch, thanks to their nose-mounted pulse phaser cannons. They provided both a welcome boost in firepower to their mothership, and the ability to deliver it where needed. In a pinch, they could even be left behind for short periods of time, to guard a static location.

Jellico had wanted to have more of them onboard, and an even more advanced weapon suite as well, but the simple truth was that the Enterprise D had been designed more as a floating small town than a vessel of war. There had only been so many changes he could make.

Jellico took advantage of the lull in the combat to ask his first officer a relevant question. "Mr. Data, do we have a shield frequency that will stop their polaron beams?"

"Not at this time, sir," Data said imperturbably. "I tried all bandwidths that the shield generator can produce. Nothing worked. I have used sensors to gather data on the beams, but it will take time for us to properly analyze their weapons, and gain the ability to shield against them. If indeed that is possible."

"Well, let's see if we can get you a little more data, Data," Jellico said, the closest thing he ever came to making a joke. "Mr. Worf, all stingships, you are free to engage. Attack pattern echo."

Upon command, the four stingships flew at and tore into the two ships coming in from below, where the Enterprise had the lightest armaments. They would have had little or no chance against the heftier vessels in even combat, but they had a two to one advantage, and the Enterprise did have one weapon that could fire in that direction. After seconds of whirlwind flight maneuvers, one of the fragile little ships had been destroyed, but the other three had reduced both Jem'Hadar vessels into utter confusion. One of them came too close to the turret on the Enterprise's belly, which mounted a pulse phaser cannon. Pulse phasers were designed for short-range flighting: they lost most of their power at a distance, but were several times stronger than continuous beam phasers were up close, which is why the Enterprise had emitters of both types. One of the two Jem'Hadar ships exploded as the vicious pulsing beam punch into its warp core and obliterated it, and the other jetted away, as its attackers pummeled it from behind with their weapons.

The other four attacking warships did little better. Even without the opening barrage of photons that had claimed their fellows, the Enterprise's phasers had gouged through them, and its quantum torpedoes from the primary forward tube (which could be reloaded) had blasted two of them from the heavens. Now, three ships stopped at a distance, as if to regroup. All were spitting fire and smoke and atmosphere into the void, indicating severe damage, but none were disabled. The Enterprise faced the trio of vessels dead on, despite obvious damage in multiple places, Sizable chunks of her armor had been blasted off, and there was minor damage inside. The ablative armor had been designed to supplement the shields, not take the place of them.

"Should we continue to fire on them?" Worf queried, his hand poised over the torpedo launch button.

"Hold up," Jellico said. "Let's see if our friends are ready to call it a day."

Almost as one, the ships gave their answer, aiming themselves squarely at the Enterprise and going to maximum power. Their rapid acceleration and the nature of their course made their intent clear.

Jellico barked the order to fire, but there was no need, Worf and Data had seen what was coming, and were already firing weapons and maneuvering the ship as they had through countless battle drills. The first would-be kamikaze had a quantum torpedo slam into its main reactor, and the blast removed it from the universe. The second had almost reached its destination when the Enterprise's main pulse phaser turret found it. Seven of the eight turrets on the ship had only one cannon on them, this one had two, and it flung terajoules of energy right into the ship's face, and all it managed to do before coming apart was pummel the Enterprise with flame and chunks of molten hull. But the third ship managed to get through, and it slammed into the Enterprise's hull with a fearsome crunch.

Under normal circumstances, not even the heavy ablative armor that covered the ship would have been enough to stop such a brutal, devastating impact. However, Worf had strongly lobbied for the installation of a double layer on the ship's frontal area, and Jellico had acquiesced largely to shut him up. This decision would save them all from joining their enemies in death: The disintegrating vessel gouged an cavernous hole in the top of the saucer section, killing over a dozen ship's personnel and gutting several key systems and venting a huge area of the hull to space. One of the two antimatter reactors was forced into emergency shutdown, but its heavily shielded antimatter reservoir remained intact. A hull fragment the side of an escape pod slammed into the armored bubble over the bridge, but only managed to knock a few ablative tiles loose.

However, multiple overloads from within had reduced the ship's bridge to a whirlwind of flame and sparks and exploded consoles. Several crew were down, and from the look of things, one wasn't going to get up again, at least not until after a long stretch in sickbay. "Report!" Jellico shouted.

Data spoke louder to be heard over all the screams and other sounds, but his voice remained calm. "Heavy damage throughout the ship. Multiple systems failures. Shields are completely offline."

"One torpedo tube operational. We can still fire phasers, but one antimatter reactor is offline. I would advise against further combat until we can make repairs," Worf said.

"Sir, I believe that the Jem'Hadar ships are probing us," Data reported. "Sending increasingly powerful groups against us. At current rate, it is logical to suggest that we will face either nine or twelve enemies next time. In our current condition, I am not sure we could even defeat one."

That had been Jellico's assessment as well. With it confirmed, he wasted no more time. "All right," he said. "Let's retrieve the stingships, then get to the wormhole before the next wave arrives."

"Captain, we have no power to the hanger doors," Data reported. "Commander LaForge estimates several hours repair time."

"Very well. Beam the pilots back to the ship, and set the stingships to autodestruct," Jellico instructed. "Are the runabouts through the wormhole?"

"The Rio Grande and Orinoco have passed through," Data said. "The Mekong is still at the entrance. They were probably intending to report on the battle."

"Tell them to go through," Jellico said. "We'll be right behind them."

*~*~*

It was a strange mixed mood on Deep Space 9 that night. On the one hand, there was a strong sense of horror an the revelations presented by both Eris and the cruelly arrogant Jem'Hadar third who had visited earlier. The Dominion had introduced itself, not by sending envoys or issuing communiques or other civilized means, but rather via several shocking and barbaric acts of mass murder. The hundreds of civilians lost on what had once been New Bajor were the worst atrocity, but the crews of the destroyed ships tallied up to a shocking sum. Judging by the amount of organic matter scattered in the wreckage of the nine Dominion warships, between 350 and 400 Jem'Hadar soldiers had perished with their vessels, but revenge wouldn't bring back those lost. And, while the Enterprise had been the last ship standing, it was the only thing the Federation had that resembled a warship, and it would require months in a repair yard before it could hope to head into the Gamma Quadrant for Round Two.

On the other hand, they had gotten what they had come for, given the enemy a black eye, and only lost one stingship pilot and fifteen other crew. And when warriors won a victory, that victory was to be celebrated. Worf and Chief Engineer LaForge had joined Chief O'Brien at one of the tables in Quark's for a bottle of blood wine; from the look of things it wasn't their first. Commander Sisko and several others had joined Captain Jellico at another table, and they were consuming liquor at a considerably slower pace.

"I'm sorry that you had to leave behind all of your stingships," Sisko was saying to his counterpart. "I hope it won't be difficult to acquire new ones."

"It won't be," Jellico assured him. "We actually have enough spare parts in storage, we could build new ones in a week or two. They were designed to be easily replaced."

"You must have a difficult time finding pilots for them," Sisko stated.

"Just the opposite," Jellico said. "I know, it sounds strange, but we have more volunteers than we know what to do with. Back on Earth, about 400 years ago, it used to be called a 'fighter jock mentality'."

Kira and Bashir exchanged knowing glances at that statement. Kira had flown missions in ships like that one in her days in the resistance, and Bashir still had enough wanna-be hero left in him to find the idea of piloting one of those ships almost irresistable.

"Well, I know that the Federation council had a lot of concerns about your modifications to the Enterprise," Sisko said. "They weren't too happy when we built the Defiant, and that was right after Wolf 359."

"I think that we may have proved the concept of the Federation dreadnought," Jellico affirmed. "And if not yet, I think the Jem'Hadar will give us many more chances. They might even let us build the next one from the ground up."

Sisko nodded. Though he had been on Deep Space 9 for a year by the time the Borg crisis occured, he had seen the plans for proposed Galaxy-sized warships that Jellico had drawn up in its wake. Data's precision and analytical skill, combined with Worf's Klingon mindset and piggybacked on the considerable research that Ben's team had put into the Defiant Class, had made for impressive work. Design A had left out the stingships, but vastly increased the amount and variety of weapons: gatling phasers, gravitic mines, and higher-capacity photon arrays to name a few. Design B had subbed in huge amounts of hangar space, increasing the number of stingships to twenty. Design C was most interesting of all; it had fewer stingships, but added in a larger impulse-only parasite vessel obviously based on the Defiant.

Starfleet had its hawk-types like any other military-based organization, and they were always suggesting such things, but they rarely got built. That might be about to change, given the Dominion threat.

Commander Data entered the bar, and approached his commander with a padd in his pale hand. "Captain, I have analyzed the ionic signature of the polaron weapons used by the Jem'Hadar. I think that there might be a way to remodulate the shields against them."

"That would eliminate their biggest advantage," Sisko commented.

"Indeed," Jellico said. "Well done, commander. Make sure you communicate your findings with Starfleet. They might have some ideas as well."

"Already done, sir," Data assured him.

Sisko watched as the android, apparently oblivious that he had delivered the first good news of the night, headed over and joined his shipmates. His own mind was running at Warp 9. Many of the weapon systems that the Enterprise had used to such devastating effect that day were ones that he had developed for the Defiant, during the experimental warship's construction. Due to design flaws, the ship had been mothballed and put in storage in an isolated orbital dock. The only still-operational warship in the fleet had been sitting there gathering space dust ever since.

Maybe, he decided, it was time for that to change.

--- THE END ---